Negligence in practicality
by Hedacious
Summary: When caught stealing, young William Darby is forced to leave his family and run to live with a notorious band of murderers.


I feel the falling sweat now, at nearly ten summers old, the ache that plagued me for most of the winter as I watch the heavy rain spitting down on to my ragged sandals. With this instrument of a pencil, I shall write this story. A story set before the word of truth and misconception against the murderer, the torturer and tender lover, the victorious mage and commander of the free men; the story of a man I simply knew as Kelvar the Wild.

Everyone in the village knew Kelvar was coming. Since the execution of our Earl merely three winters ago, the village had enjoyed an almost perpetual holiday atmosphere; there was no authority for them to work for and, after tending to their own strips of land and stock, the village folk had time on their hands. Agnes's house, our local alewife, was full all day buzzing with the talk of Kelvar's exploits and adventures even stretching down to his brutal murders and atrocities.

Still, very little was said about him due to the fact that he would be returning later that night to hold a small court in which the villagers would be able to pay him tribute in return for his protection.

The following details are but a blur to me. I recall walking through the slums of our nearest city. God forgive me for I do not recall the name, my reason for this had always been down to the fact that we were merely un-existing souls to the eyes of society. When I came round moments later, I was lying on the ground at the centre of a jabbering crowd. Towering over me was a soldier who wore black chainmail with the crest of Ser Alistair Vendri. High Lord of Vinconshare and the royal forests. I was seized rigid with terror.

The soldier lifted me to my feet by my hair and I stood dazed and trembling whilst the ginger-faced man at arms yammered out a stolen ruby. My creasy satchel was torn open and the circle of onlookers craned to see the incriminating object glistening gently at my waist.

As for Alistair, though I had never seen him before, I knew immediately that this was the lord himself: the magnate who held the castle for the rulers who resided in Avalon.

He held the power of life and death over all the people in the huge swathe of central Avalon. The crowd immediately fell silent. I stared at him, terrified, as he gazed calmly up and down my thin body, taking in my heavy black hair and muddy face. At his right side hung a silver-handled sword in a red leather scabbard. Slowly he would speak.

"Take… this filth… to the castle."

I was frozen. He punched me full in the face with his lightly gloved fist. The blow knocked me to my knees and blood started to pour from an inch cut on my cheek. He then withdrew his sword whilst turning to advise a nearby soldier.

As the men started to drag me away by the wrist, I heard a woman cry: "That's Will, the miller's son. Have pity on him, he's only a fatherless boy!" and the man paused, turning to speak to her. As he did, I focused my anger and hatred allowing me to twist my wrist against his grip until it was ripped free.

I fled the scene.

Unfortunately, the ruby I had stolen was of great importance. Everybody knew that the soldiers would return, if not to kill me, to teach the villagers a mortal lesson. That night my mother took me to see Kelvar.

The village was dark except for a ring of fire around the old church, somehow floating inches above the ground. As it was the largest and most solid building in the village, we would often use it for meetings and quick shelter for any rogues willing to lend us a hand.

The door keeper was a truly intimidating man; brown haired with a warhammer strapped tightly to his back and a long dagger almost big enough to be a sword at his belt. He looked down at us and nodded and, with a half-smile, said: "What brings you here love?"

My mother quickly answered: "It's me son, William." She gestured at me, "They're coming for him Lukas."

The man nodded again: "Wait over there," he rumbled, and indicated to a group of fifteen or so, men and women waiting by the side of the church.

Stories had it that Robin and his men were one of the few outlaws who had learned the ability to use magic. You see, magic was a strange thing. Bards would often sing of cities where magic reigned supreme. There was even said to be an entire city dedicated to training people younger than me to master the power of the arcane arts. We were just unlucky enough to be born in the outside sectors. Nobody cared about us and therefore, magic was next to non-existent in our small world.

I must confess that, at that moment, outside the church with my weeping mother, I felt not the fear of Alistair, the threat of danger nor even the king himself. Kelvar the wild was here: the master of the forest and outlaws alike. Feared by lords and nobles alike, he was a man who preyed on those who would seek to do evil to others and to me, that made him a hero.

After what seemed like several hours, the man beckoned us and pushed open the doors of the church. My excitement had soared and my head throbbing. I held it high as I walked.

Before me at the centre of the room was an ordinary looking young man, slim though muscular dressed in a badly dyed dark green and black tunic. His attire was no different from any other man in the village or even the slums. It was a shock. Where was this legend? The great man? He wore no sword, no hammer, no staff. No status of power except that behind him stood two tall, hooded men each with a wand of their own.

Coming out of the shadows was nothing more than a broad man with scarlet hair in the rough robes of a priest who was speaking quietly into the ear of the hooded man. The priest finished speaking and came over to us. Kelvar sat back, sighed and opened his eyes. He looked directly at me and I saw for the first time, eyes, black as the soles of my shoes. He immediately closed his eyes again and fell back into contemplation.

"My name is Aterleby. The others call me 'Apy'" said the priest in a strange accent. "How can we be of service to you?"

My mother held out my hand in hers to the priest; "It's my son," she said in a rush. "They're coming for him." He took my mother's hand in his then turned down to look at me. "Why are they coming for you? My mother began to protest; "It's all an accident; he's a good boy though troublesome sometimes…"

Apy ignored her. He asked again: "Why are they coming for you boy?"

I looked him straight in the eye: "I stole a ruby for a soldier, sir," I said as calmly as I could.

"Mhm, do you know that thievery is a sin?" he asked

"Yes sir,"

"And yet you stole anyway? Why?"

"It's what I do… stealing.. It's what I do best."

The man grinned. "Well there must be penance. All sins must be paid for."

"Yes sir."

Apy took me by the arm, and led me forward to Kelver's seat. He opened his eyes and looked at me again. When he spoke, it was in a piercing voice swift but strong: "They tell me that you risked your arm for a ruby?"

I nodded.

He said: "And you wish to serve me? You wish for me to take you under my protection?" I was silent and made a simple tilt of the head.

"Why?"

The question took me by surprise: he must have known that I needed to escape the law. I looked at Apy. "I am a thief sir," I said and I would want to serve under the legend himself, the greatest thief of all."

There was a sharp intake of breath all around the room. It occurred to me at that point that perhaps Kelvar had not cared to regard himself as a felon. One of the hooded men behind him half-drew his sword but stopped when Kelvar raised a pacifying hand.

"You flatter me." said the lord of the forest. His voice had grown cold, his pitch black eyes now blazed like naked steel. "But that was not what I meant by my question. I did not mean why would you wish to serve me. I meant, why should I take you on as my soldier. Why should I burden myself with the refuge of a little boy." 

I could think of no reason so I hung my head in silence. He continued: "Can you fight like a thirsty soldier clad in hard steel and iron?"

I remained silent.

"Can you cast a deathly curse with the power to enchant entire villages?"

He knew that I could not; few gown men could achieve such a feat.

"So what can you offer me little miller boy." The mockery dripped from his voice.

I lifted my chin and stared back at him, "I will give you my skill as a thief and my absolute loyalty until death." I said, far too loudly for my liking.

There was silence.

He smirked.

"What is your name?"

"William Darby, sir." I said.

He looked surprised. "Is your father's name Jacob?"

I nodded. I could not bring myself to tell Kelvar that my father was dead.

"He's a good man. You have his hair."

His coldness slid away and like a woman certain of her date, I knew certain that he would take me in.

"And by the way, young Will, I am not a thief," said Kelvar still smiling. "I merely dabble in the ways of the arcane arts, as it pleases me." There was a murmur of gentle laughter around the church.

Apy lightly touched my elbow, guiding me away from the chair. "Say your farewells to your mother, boy. You're with us now."

I didn't have to walk far before I met my little mother waiting outside the church, I hugged her and muttered goodbye then watched as she walked outside into the dark and out of my life forever.

At that moment, I saw some men carry a bound man into the room.

"Take him outside; do it there in front of everyone," Kelvar said to the hooded men. He then turned to talk to the clerk sitting by the door-side. Apy came over and took me by the arm; he led me out of the church and round the corner of the building. There as I looked on, Kelvar's men forced the bound soul to his knees. He was sobbing and choking on a piece of cloth that had been shoved into his mouth and tied there with a strip of leather.

"You must watch this," said the priest.

Almost immediately, a small crowd gathered to observe the scene.

One of Robin's men would then withdraw his wand and draw some sort of sign in the air in front of him. With the knowledge I have now, It is easy to understand that the soldier had drawn the death symbol. The torture that would follow still plagues me till this day.


End file.
